


SuperLock: Hostage

by SenoraKitty



Series: SuperLock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Demonic Possession, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenoraKitty/pseuds/SenoraKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hearing the ruckus downstairs Sherlock, Sam, and Dean rush to see what all the noise is about. What they find is not what they had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SuperLock: Hostage

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this work came from this image: fav.me/d4k1mcv
> 
> The fic is unpolished at this point. I am NOT a writer! I cannot reiterate this enough.
> 
> Warnings are based on individual parts, not the series as a whole.

At the panicked doctor's shout the three men shared a confused look before bolting from the kitchen table. Their footsteps thundered as they ran down the stairs, Sherlock ahead of the two brothers. “John,” he called out to his friend before he was half way down the steps. Sherlock balked the second he leaped off the last step into the basement. His eyes widened in shock and his mind reeled at the scene before him.

John was standing with his back to the stairs, his body pressed flush against Lestrade. A thin line of blood coming from the D.I.'s mouth was the first sign that something was alarmingly wrong.

Sherlock watched in transfixed horror as Lestrade staggered back, blood pouring from a stab wound to the chest. The D.I. slumped against the wall, his face ashen white, his eyes were wide and unfocused. Slowly Lestrade slid down the concrete slate as his body drained of life.

“Lestrade!” Sherlock bellowed into the space as he watched the last signs of life leave his long time associate's- friend's body. “Greg...” he whispered, still trying to grasp what had just transpired.

Lestrade and John had gone to the cellar, in all likelihood to chat about mundane, boring, things such as sports. What could have possibly transpired between the two men in order to make John snap and murder one of his best friends? It made no sense. He would never have turned on his friends in such a vicious and violent way. The ex-marine was fully capable of killing, but John's strict morals would never allow him to lash out and kill in cold blood like this. 

His eyes caught movement, and he slowly tore them away from Lestrade's body to fall on the room's only other occupant. “John what have you done!” Outraged he reached out to the doctor, only to be halted by a strong grip on his shoulder.

“No no, that's not him.” Dean hurriedly tried to explain, at the same time trying to hold Sherlock back from possible harm.

Sherlock wrenched his arm out of the younger man's grasp. “Get off me,” he sneered.

“He's right, Sherlock, that isn't John. Not anymore.” Sam interjected, trying to expand upon Dean's warning. His words only earned him an irate glare from the consulting detective.

Sherlock was baffled, what lunacy were these two spouting now? Of course it was John. The man was standing right there in front of them.

John shifted his weight, and slowly turned to face the trio. His eyes were bottomless black orbs rather than their normal deep ocean blue. The doctor brought the dagger, he still held, up to his lips. Grinning, he raked the flat of the blade across his tongue, licking at the blood that coated the knife. He had a look of pure bliss on his face as he rolled Lestrade's life blood in his mouth. A low moans escaped his throat as he appeared to be savoring an exotic delicacy. 

The detective's breath caught in his throat as he saw his friend's face. He stood frozen in place, his mind captivated by what he was seeing. The Winchesters had been right, this man standing before them was not the John Watson he knew.

“Sherlock,” John purred, his demonic black eyes devouring the detective's lanky form. “Oh how I've missed you.”

The Winchesters shared a confused look with one another. Normally it was them that demons tended to address. The fact that this demon was speaking to the British detective, even going so far as to refer to him by name, was something out of the ordinary even for them.

Sherlock steeled himself, pushing his uncertainty into the back of his mind, while calling upon his calm reserve. He glared down his nose at the possessed doctor, putting on a brave front. “So, you're a demon? Then tell me, how is it that you know me?”

“That's my little secret,” John sing songed, as he gave Sherlock a toothy grin.

The detective's eyes flickered from the demon to Lestrade's lifeless body. “Why kill Lestrade?”

“Oh him? He was just business,” he added as an after though, “and a little bit of pleasure.” He eyed the blood that had spilled over his fingers, and began to lick them clean making sure to put on a show. “I just made a little deal with Crowley and-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Dean interrupted. “Did you just say Crowley?”

“Yes Crowley.” John repeated, mangling the name as he mocked the eldest Winchester. “Americans; always so slow,” he huffed, turning his attention back to Sherlock. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” John's voice rose on the last word as the possessed doctor chastised Dean. A moment passed before he visibly calmed and continued with his explanation. “The D.I. was a loose end I just so happened to volunteer to tie up.”

“Did you kill John too, before you took over his body?” This time it was Sam who asked the question.

Sherlock opened his mouth, ready to reprimand the youngest Winchester for interrupting. Then it dawned on him that if John were still alive there was a chance to save him. He closed his mouth, and waited for the demon to answer.

“Oh no, Johnny boy is still with us. I got him locked away in here safe and sound, for now. If you like I'll even let you talk to him.” He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again they were wide with panic. “Sherlock run!” He hollered in sheer terror before going stiff all over. The pin point pupils of his eye grew, pure black consuming the normal deep indigo of John's eyes. The demon was once again back in control. “That's enough from the peanut gallery.”

Sherlock's jaw worked silently as he seethed from seeing his friend held hostage before him. “Let him go,” he growled.

“No, no I don't think so. You see I rather like it here: combat strategies, a killer's reflexes, medical mind of a doctor, cutting skills of a surgeon,” John gave mock shudder. “He is so much fun to play with.”

“John would rather die then be controlled by the likes of you. Get out of him!“ A slow grin spread across Sherlock's lips as he came to a conclusion. “Take me instead. I can guarantee you that my mind will give you copious amounts of entertainment.”

The demon controlling John seemed to like the idea. He raked his eyes over the detective's body, something akin to lust in his fathomless eyes. “Oh I know it could. You and me, Sherlock, we'd be so good together.”

“He can't,” Sam informed, cutting in on the conversation once more. He had no idea where the British detective was going with this, but he knew for a fact that the demon was toying with them.

It was the last straw for Sherlock. He could handle the demon on his own, but not with the Winchesters constantly hampering his efforts to gather information, and work out a plan. “Stay out of this,” he hissed back at the brothers.

“No I mean he can't. The circle, he's trapped, he can't leave it.” Sam noted, pointing out the red devil's trap painted on the ground.

John shrugged nonchalantly. “Sad but true, besides it's so much more fun watching you dance from here. I can see your mind racing a hundred kilometers a minute; what to do, what to do? How to save the good doctor's life?”

Dean rolled his eyes, fed up with the demon's taunts. “Alright I've had enough of this. Sam!”

Without having to guess at what Dean wanted Sam began to ramble off the incantation for an exorcism. He managed to dodge just in time as the demon dagger was flung at his head, embedding itself in the wall behind him.

With a whoop of excitement and awe the demon cheered at his impeccable aim. “You see that? I told you, Sherlock, this body is so much fun!” With Sam distracted John recited an incantation of his own, effectively silencing the younger Winchester. “You're not the only ones who know spells, boys.”

Sherlock blinked, he knew the words that Sam had started speaking. They were written down in the journal he looked at upstairs. Recalling the text from memory Sherlock began to chant. _“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...”_

The demon thrashed in obvious physical pain as Sherlock recited the exorcism. He grit his teeth and held his stomach as if the action could keep the demonic entity inside John's body some how. “This is only the beginning Sherlock. I'll see you in hell.” John sneered through clinched teeth before throwing his head back, his arms flying open. 

_“...Benedictus deus. Gloria patri.”_

A black pillar of ash and smoke erupting from the doctor's gaping mouth, swirling and twisting it's way into the floor before disappearing completely. Without missing a beat Sherlock rushed to John's side, catching him in his arms before his friend could fall and hit his head.

Dean nodded in approval of the detective's quick thinking. “Amen.”

 

Dean stood over Sherlock, who was crouched over his dead friend the detective inspector. They had moved Lestrade's body to the center of the room, and covered him with a sheet. They all agreed to bury the body Later that evening, after dark. 

“I'm sorry. I am...Lestrade, he seemed like a really cool guy.” Dean's words only earned him an unreadable glance from the detective. He had never been good at consoling people, and he knew it. The look he received, however, made him visibly fidget in discomfort. His gaze fell on John's unconscious form, on the other side of the room, and he decided it best to change the subject. “So what are we going to do with sleeping beauty?”

Sherlock's eyes followed Dean's gaze. He stood, walking silently over to the doctor's limp body still lying on the floor. With seemingly little effort he collected the shorter man in his arms. Standing he turned toward the stairs. “I'm taking him upstairs to rest.”

“Hang on.” Sam called, walking up to the lanky detective. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a leather necklace with charms on it. “This will keep the demons away.” He said to the curious look he got from Sherlock, and placed the necklace around John's neck.

Sherlock paused for a moment before uttering, “thank you.” He turned and hauled his burden carefully up the stairs, depositing the unconscious doctor in the bed of the one bedroom house. He pulled in a chair from the kitchen, and sat in silence while he waited for his friend to wake. He had much to think about now.

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley vanished the moment John stabbed Lestrade. The contract being complete, he no longer had a reason to be there. Just in case you were wondering why he wasn't there when everyone else arrived.
> 
> The spell that the demon uses on Sam was a temporary silencing spell.
> 
> Devil's Trap: Demon's cannot escape the circle unless part of the seal is destroyed e.i. scraping the paint away. However, this wouldn't stop a demon from being able to attack you if they have a throw-able object with them.
> 
> The Latin that Sherlock recites is the exorcism written in John Winchester's (Sam and Dean's father) journal.
> 
> Translation: 
> 
> "Kingdoms of the Earth, sing unto God,  
> Praises to the Lord  
> that carry above the sky  
> of heaven to the East.  
> Behold, He sends forth His Own Voice,  
> the Voice of Virtue.  
> Attribute the Virtue to God.
> 
> We exorcise you, every impure spirit,  
> every satanic power, every incursion  
> of the infernal adversary, every legion,  
> every congregation and diabolical sect...
> 
> ...Blessed be God. Glory be to the Father."
> 
> I did not use the full exorcism because there appear to be some continuity errors within the translation. That and using the whole text would have been a waste.


End file.
